


Advances in Modern Medicine

by TsaritsaElena



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, death of a child, original character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-21
Updated: 2013-09-21
Packaged: 2017-12-27 05:30:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/974992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TsaritsaElena/pseuds/TsaritsaElena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of all the changes, improvements, and advances in technology that the future has brought, Ichabod is most struck by the development of vaccines.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Advances in Modern Medicine

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings are in the tags if you need them!

When Captain Irving allows Abbie and Ichabod to work on the "Headless Horseman" case, it means he finally has to accept the existence of a man who, just yesterday, was living and breathing in 1781. (“I think I’m going crazy. Abbie, am I going crazy?” “No sir, you’re not going crazy.”) And as a veteran of the government bureaucracy, Captain Irving knows what comes next: paperwork. Lots and lots of paperwork.

“How do you even _get_ a social security number for someone who lived 250 years ago?” Abbie wants to know.

“And a social security number is...?” Ichabod trails off.

But Captain Irving somehow gets him the paperwork in short order. It only needs to be filled out and he can have it approved within the week. (“Ask no questions and I will tell no lies,” he tells them.)

Filling out the paperwork is also when they realize Ichabod needs a medical checkup. And it’s the same time they realize that Ichabod Crane has never had a childhood vaccination in his life.

They’re filling out reports at the Police Department at the time, and the whole office’s eyes go wide when one of the officers who had seen the Headless Horseman blurts out, “You don’t have smallpox, do you?!?”

Ichabod hastens to assure them that, “ _No_ , of _course_ I don’t have smallpox! Why on Earth would they let me out on a battlefield if I had smallpox?!” but the damage is done. The office is in a flurry of murmurs and whispers. Ichabod looks to Abbie for assistance in assuring the others, but Abbie’s concern is a little different.

“You’ve never had a vaccination in your life. Anyone here could be carrying measles or mumps or rubella and they’d never know it, but _you’d_ get sick!” she tells him, even as Ichabod protests that he is in perfectly good health, thank you very much.

And so it is that Ichabod Crane is ushered into quarantine while they test him for smallpox (negative), and administer vaccine after vaccine. There are so many he needs to get, he has to have them over the course of a few days. He has to stay in quarantine anyway because the test for tuberculosis takes at least 48 hours before the results can be read. Ichabod insists, again, that no men in his regiment would have been _allowed_ to carry consumption onto the battlefield but no one really listens to him.

It’s becoming quite the trend, really. While he’s in quarantine, a doctor (specially cleared to enter the quarantine) comes to give him a physical examination but barely believes half of his answers. He pokes and prods Ichabod, draws blood and takes a urine sample (only his stiff, British aristocratic nature keeps him from blushing furiously). But when the doctor asks him extremely personal questions about his intimate bedroom activities, Ichabod finally becomes indignant.

Drawing himself up to his full height he exclaims, “ _Excuse me_ , _doctor_? What business have you to make inquiries of such a personal nature?” He doesn’t relent, either, when the doctor explains that they should conduct a test for syphilis and... _other_ diseases. “Quite frankly, I am offended by your bold accusations! I have been—” _busy fighting in a war_ , “—away from my wife for some time and I would never, _never_ do her the dishonour of committing adultery against her! She is mine and I am hers, and we have been thusly since our marriage began. No other has come between either of us before or since.”

The doctor doesn’t believe a word of it and makes him take the tests anyway. Ichabod allows himself to feel _supremely_ vindicated when the test results come back negative, giving the doctor a smug look in return. (The doctor gives him pamphlets on ‘STDs’ and ‘AIDS’ anyway and tempted though he is to chuck them straight in the bin, curiosity of new knowledge wins him over. He reads them and learns condoms have come a long way, and that newer, deadlier diseases have taken the place of old ones.)

Abbie comes by to visit (the only other person besides the doctor who is cleared to enter the quarantine, having spent so much time around him anyway) but she has much to do, filling out reports and doing “damage control” with the Captain, so she can’t always be there. Ichabod spends his time pouring over his Bible and the clues left behind by Katrina, but even he can’t devote every waking moment to the task of the Headless Horseman without going a little mad.

Abbie is kind enough to lend Ichabod her iPad with the mini-keyboard attachment (because typing on a virtual keyboard is hard enough when one _knows_ what a QWERTY keyboard is, let alone when one is over 250 years old and has never seen a computer). Ichabod takes to it like a duck to water and Abbie is a little surprised, but tablets were designed to be intuitive after all and a man more than 250 years old is no exception.

Then she shows him how to look up any information he wants, with Google or Wikipedia. She attempts to walk him through reliable vs. unreliable sources on Google, but after a few examples, Ichabod begins to get the hang of it, assuring her that he was once a professor and scholar at Oxford and is familiar with evaluating the credibility of sources.

Ichabod finds himself endlessly fascinated with Wikipedia, reveling in what seems to be an infinite library of information. He begins reading one page, and ten clicks later he comes up for air only to find that two hours have already passed. He’s just finished reading the page dedicated to smallpox when Abbie comes in to say hello.

Instantly noticing something is off, she furrows her brow, asking him, “What’s wrong?”

Ichabod struggles to articulate the numb, cold feeling inside of him that’s pierced with regret and sorrow. He opens and closes his mouth twice before finding his voice, quiet and mournful as it is. “I never had smallpox, you know. Katrina did, and she survived. My younger sister passed away from it as a child.” He pauses before his admission. “So did my son.”

He doesn’t look at Abbie, instead fixing his gaze on the white ceiling as he elaborates, “He was not yet four. And I wanted to be with him for every minute, but I could not, knowing that I might catch it if I was. Katrina cared for him but he grew worse and worse. One night, she put him to bed and... he never woke up.” Ichabod squeezes his eyes shut, the memory too painful.

Abbie scoots closer next to Ichabod, grasping one of his hands with hers and placing her other hand across his back. “I’m sorry,” she says, meaning every word of it.

“No one is sorrier than I. I read that smallpox has been eradicated, wiped out by the world’s dedication to a vaccine campaign. And I can’t help—” he breaks off, voice catching in his throat, “—I can’t help but think, ‘If only we had that vaccine while he was still alive.’ I would have done _anything_ to see my son whole and healthy, _anything_.” He falls silent and they remain like that for some time, Abbie holding him in her arms while Ichabod begins to cry noiselessly.

After some time, “Why would God do such a thing?!” he demands to know, a sob escaping him. He wipes furiously at his eyes, his fingers coming away wet. Abbie gets up to grab the tissue box in the room and returns, again placing her hand against his back.

She doesn’t know what to say, but she has to say something. “Everything happens for a reason,” she tries.

“What reason could He possibly have for taking my son away, only to torture me later with the knowledge of a cure?” Ichabod returns angrily. He wipes his eyes and blows his nose while Abbie tries to think of another reply.

“Sometimes, the reason isn’t apparent to us yet. You said that he died peacefully, in his sleep. Well, what if he had survived, only to die in a much worse way? What if he was burned alive by the Redcoats in a village fire? What if the Headless Horseman got to him first, kidnapping and torturing your son to lure you in, only to behead your son anyway?” She pauses, and then, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to sound gruesome; I only mean to say that even if he had lived through smallpox, there’s no guarantee death wouldn’t have come for him anyway. You can’t ask for a more painless way to go than in your sleep.”

He’s quiet again, thinking her words over. “I loved him so, Abbie, I loved him so,” he rasps after a time, mourning the loss as though the wound was freshly new.

“I know you did,” she says, making soothing motions on his back. She’s not particularly religious but it’s clear Ichabod is, so she tries, “It was his time, Ichabod, and he crossed over peacefully. You’ll see him again one day, but until that day, you have to _live_. You can’t spend all your days mourning the past instead of living in the present. You have to live for yourself, and your wife, and you have to live for him, okay?”

Ichabod nods, seeing the sense in her words.

Wondering if she should risk a little humor, she adds, “Besides, you have to live so you have some good stories to tell him when you get up there. I’m sure he’ll enjoy hearing about the time his dad stopped the apocalypse.”

It’s the right call and Ichabod lets out a weak laugh. He smiles at her and nods. “You’re right, Abbie. Thank you.”

She squeezes his hand and he squeezes back in return. He’s not alright yet, not completely. Maybe he never will be, and maybe he’ll always wonder about the ‘what ifs,’ but he finds the sorrow easier to bear with a friend at his side. And he’s glad to have Abbie for a friend.

_Fin_


End file.
